


Burdens of an actor

by UnderworldsPain



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: F/M, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Multi, kinda angsty, self doubt, this was a vent writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 17:18:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12657969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderworldsPain/pseuds/UnderworldsPain
Summary: Stan struggles with his emotions and doesn't like to let others see him vulnerable. The Losers try to help him through his issues the best they can with the little information they've been given to work with.





	Burdens of an actor

Doubt was just one of the curses that plagued a good actor. Stan learned this quickly as he sat on a rock nearby the quarry and looked out to the water. The rest of his friends had already striped down to their underwear and thrown their clothes haphazardly off to the sides, most of them getting stuck in the bushes and dead brambles that littered the edge of the stream. His fingers itched to pick them up and fold them, or at the very least gather them into a semi neat pile somewhere where they wouldn’t get wet or filthier than they were already. 

This was an urge he had yet to resist, it was as if he was being controlled. Most of his life felt like that if he were to be honest with himself. He always felt that as an individual, he had no role and no voice. Life had handed him a script to use and all he had to do was read the lines to make the audience happy. Stan couldn’t help but feel as though he were merely an actor with a part to play in life, that if his ratings went down then others could easily find a new actor to replace him. The replacement would be able to play the role better than he ever could, with a realistic smile and a likeable personality. 

He picked up the strewn clothes and began to place them to hang on his forearm. A shout of joy was let out from the water where the losers’ were splashing around. Stan thought it sounded like Eddie, but couldn’t find it in himself to look over to check. As he lifted a pair of shorts the laughter and splashes had begun to meld together and form a deafening silence in his mind. His stare had become focused on a single dead flower on what seemed to be the healthiest bush there. 

The rest of the bush seemed engulfed in the glorious colors of green and yellow, but the browned flowered obscured the beauty of it. The symbolism felt almost uncanny. Life was trying to tell him something, perhaps that his acting had begun to fall flat. Maybe it was that the world had began to see what he truly was, meaning the raggedy gang of people he called his friends had probably began to notice as well. Everyone knew he was the outlier in the group in almost every aspect. They all knew he was the dead brown flower amongst their beautiful unique bouquet. He was only dragging them down; they always had more fun without him there. The white noise had grown louder and louder until Stan was ripped from his thoughts. He took in a sharp intake of breath and went rigid as a wet hand clamped down on to his shoulder, noise suddenly coming back full force as the real world was once again brought to his attention.

“Ay Senor, if chu want to burn dat bush I can get mis glasses to help” 

It took a split second for Stan to fall back into his role; it was something he had been getting better at with practice. He learned quickly who he was supposed to be and what was expected of him, not like it was ever kept a secret. As he turned to look at Richie, the practiced frustrated emotion plastered on his face, he couldn’t help but hesitate on his line. 

There Richie was, actually looking concerned for Stan. He had tried to play it off but Stan took note of his scrunched eyebrows and his small smile. Richie was always one to smile with his whole face, making the pathetic smile now convey just how concerned about Stan’s behavior he actually was. Stan did the only thing he could think to do at the moment.

He improvised his lines.

“It’s more than alright Richie, I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

He sent a small smile towards Richie and placed his own dry hand a top the one that had begun to soak into his clothing. Stan couldn’t help but feel a little less alone as he witnessed Tozier stand there and attempt to comfort him. In his own weird way, Richie was trying to cheer him up.

“I would take your hand off of my shoulder though before I break it”

Of course, he couldn’t let himself break character or go off script by too much; they still had an audience of course. 

“I was hoping that my stellar face and hot bod could lure you into the water with the rest of us. Come on Stanny boy, join in the fun.” 

“Richie, your face and body makes me want to stay away from the water more than before.” 

“Oh shit Stan, my bad I thought it would work on you too. Your mom couldn’t get enough of this sexiness last night! In fact, she was asking for fourths!”

Richie’s smile came back full force after Stan’s quick reassurance and he had begun to act like himself once more. Richie placed a hand over his ear to cup it, as though he were listening out for something.

“Why in fact, I think that’s her right now yearning and crying out for this sweet wang!” 

Richie started to make vulgar hip thrusting movement and was talking in a high-pitched voice, saying something along the lines of ‘oh yea Richie’. It was horrifying to witness and think about. Stan’s face had contorted into a disgusted look and tried to shake the image from his mind as he reached out to shove Richie away from him. The hip movements were interrupted as Richie was now trying to regain his balance from the shove and was now wheezing with laughter. 

“Fuck off Trashmouth, you can’t even score with your own hand let alone a real human being.” 

As though he were scandalized, Richie placed a hand over his chest and began to fall to his knees.  
“Stan the man coming in hot with sharp knives of betrayal” 

“Don’t start a fire if you can’t take the heat Tozier”

Stan at that point had moved away from the theatrics that Richie was still showing to fold the clothes he had gathered from the floor and bushes. He heard a scuffling behind him as Richie started to rise from his fallen position on the ground. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Richie made his way over to where Stan had taken it upon himself to turn into their personal housekeeper. He quickly snatched the half folded laundry out of Stan’s grasp. Stan immediately tried to get back the unfinished shirts, but was kept away as a surprisingly strong Richie held him away from the clothes.

“Stan, you know that you cleaning is only fun if I get to see you in lingerie right?” 

“Richie, I’m gonna fucking choke you out if you don’t give me back the clothes!”

Richie let his eyebrows wiggled after a wink was sent Stan’s way.

“So does that mean you’re down for the lingerie? Because choking is kinky as fuck and if you get to choose one then so do I.”

Stan could feel his costume begin to tear at the edges as he slowly lost more and more of his composure with every new stupid joke Richie threw his way. He was crinkling the shirts he had folded so neatly not just seconds ago and placing his dumb grimy and wet hand on Stan’s nice light blue polo. That was surely going to leave a bitch of a stain. 

“Richie I swear, just give me the fucking shirts back!”

“And what do I get out of it?” 

“An un-punched face trashmouth! How’s that for a trade?”

Richie had the audacity to stand there and think about it as Stan heard the other’s laughing by the quarry. He turned his head to take notice of how everyone was now looking at his and Richie’s antics and suddenly felt more self conscious than before. 

“How about, you come into the quarry with us for two to three hours minimum and then we’ll talk about this laundry thing.”

“What! That’s fucking ridiculous Richie, you’re stupid if you thin-“

“Now it’s for sure three hours ol’ chap!”  
Stan heard Bill shout out a “Come on Stan the waters fine! It’s not the same without you in here too!” and a murmur of agreements from the rest of them. A dangerous thought had begun to seep into Stan’s mind at that moment. The thoughts of his loneliness feeling dumber as the seconds ticked by and he looked out on these kids that were waiting patiently for his answer. He turned back to Richie and thought he even saw a spark of hope in his face as well. 

“Fine, I’ll go in.”

He began to unbutton his shirt as cheers from the gang erupted around him. 

“It’s getting hot in here now! Hell yea!”

Stan let the smile settle on his face as his eyes rolled at the joking hoops and hollers as he began to slip off his shirt and pants. The smile became full on laughter as he felt himself being pushed into the water by an impatient Richie that soon followed him in with a cannonball.

Doubt was a burden every good actor had to shake. Stan started to learn slowly that he did have people he could rely on to shout and laugh the feeling away with.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I'm gonna be purely honest with you and let you know that I have no clue where I'm taking this story. This isn't edited, mostly because I wrote this at a ridiculous hour of the night to vent so... fuck.


End file.
